Striking Gold
by bakerthatstreet
Summary: 1849 Gold Miner AU. Dan moves to California hoping to strike it rich. What he finds is better than gold: a friend.


California was not what Dan expected. But then again, Britain wasn't much either. His family didn't really care that he left, but he wanted to do something different. So, after hearing about the gold mines in America, he set off in a boat to sail around Cape Horn and strike it rich. With his luck, Dan pondered, he'd find nothing. But it couldn't hurt to try.

The boat ride was a bit of a blur in his nervousness. When he docked, Dan realized that California wasn't a bit like he thought it would be. Huge mountains towered over him in all of their pale pink and royal purple colors. Gulping, he grabbed his pack and headed towards the unknown.

It wasn't hard to find the nearest hotel: there were tons. The port where he had landed was called San Francisco, it was the largest boom town around and sat right on the Pacific Ocean. Naturally, people took advantage of the miners flocking to California and catered to their needs. Looking around, Dan didn't know who was trustworthy and was not.

Finally making a choice, he headed towards a homey-looking single-story building with a sign hanging over the door that read "HOTEL". The young woman at the desk was probably a little older than him, maybe 25 or 26 compared to his 21. Nervously, Dan smiled at her and asked for a room. She replied kindly, and Dan learned that her name was Cat. Realizing that he had made an acquaintance, he grinned and let her lead him to his new home.

The room was tiny, but Dan wasn't really very worried about that. Mostly, he needed to stake a claim, and soon. Plus, if he wanted to strike it rich, he'd need the proper equipment. Sighing, he resignedly headed to bed, unprepared for the next morning.

The day dawned bright and clear over the dusty town, and Dan yawned from his small room. The first thing he needed to focus on was where to start. On his way out the door, he asked Cat if she had any extra equipment. Ten minutes and one gold pan later, Dan was out and about in San Francisco. After staking a claim at the nearest bank, he was ready to go. Peering through the dust, he noticed hordes of men heading up towards the mountains. Tiredly, he followed behind.

Gold sifting was hard work, and it was Dan's first time. He didn't have much luck, but he noticed how other people sifted the dirt out and stored the nuggets left behind. Copying them, Dan had about half an ounce of gold in a bag around his neck. As the day came to an end, he trudged his way back down to the mining town. He saw the nearest bank and was about to head in when a voice rang out, "I wouldn't go in there if I were you." Spinning around, Dan searched for the source of the voice. Finally, he saw a tall, dark-haired man leaning on a wall of a nearby alley. The stranger lazed his way over, his many tools swaying on his low-slung belt. "None of us will sell dust to that store. He only paid $17 an ounce, and then blew out $2 of fine gold; the liar said it wasn't clean."

Bewildered, Dan just stared at the man as he walked in circles around him, gesticulating with every sentence.

"Another miner only 2 claims above me gets $18.50 for it at the same store, but it always weighs short. I'm sure they're trying to rob us poor miners! Trust me, you seem new," the man winked slowly. "By the way, I'm Phil. 28. Nice to meet you."

"Uh… I'm Dan. I'm 23. And, um, thanks, I guess." Dan blushed. Who did this guy even think he was, anyways? At least he was helpful, but he didn't really seem trustworthy. No one really was. A friendly enough man at the claim next to his stole almost half of his haul that morning, and after that Dan realized that he couldn't trust anyone. No matter how good-looking they were.

"Where are you lodged?" This time, Phil didn't seem to be flirting. Dan thought he might genuinely want to know, though he wasn't sure why.

"Why?" Dan asked suspiciously.

"Whoa there!" It was Phil's turn to blush. "I didn't mean it like that!"

"Well, what did you mean then?" Dan asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "Because the only other reason would be a robbery."

Phil grinned. "I've done pretty well for myself here, and I can offer you a good enough deal for your gold. This last week was my lucky one. I struck a crevice in the bedrock on the rim of the creek."

"Give me one reason why I should trust you."

"I can help you. I know this place, I know the people. They don't take to foreigners like ourselves, but they know who I am. I can get you good deals, and I can be your friend. That's what you really want, isn't it?"

Dan nodded, mute. How did this stranger know how lonely he was in this new country? Weakly, he smiled. If he believed anyone in this strange land, it was Phil.

"So, where did you say your hotel was?"

Dan directed Phil towards the small hotel and introduced him to Cat. She smiled and blushed, and Dan felt a twinge of jealousy. He had met Phil first, after all. Rushing through the rest of the introductions, he pushed Phil up the stairs.

"What's the rush, little bear?" Phil chuckled.

Frowning, Dan continued upwards. Reaching the room, he slammed the door and huffed. Phil had already claimed the grimy bed, so Dan sat on the hard wood floor.

"Y'know, these conditions are awfully nice for a mining town. There have been a good many deaths here last winter, probably due to exposure. At least you're inside," Phil commented.

"Yeah, well it's a long trek into the mountains." _Where do you live?_ Dan wondered. _A log cabin in the woods, roughing it out like a man? He would._ Unsure as to how ask this, he decided to shut up.

"You have it easy, believe me. I've been here for 3 years, and it's been rough. I had no mentor, but you've got me." Phil grimaced slightly, which Dan thought looked great.

"I- Thank you so much. I don't deserve this," Dan smiled up at the other man.

"You do," Phil said softly. "Everyone does."

Feeling slightly let down by Phil's added remark, Dan looked towards the corner. "Where should we start?"

"Well…"


End file.
